


Moonwake

by AnonymousPresence



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1kADayChallangeToMe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bite Size Chapters, F/M, Soulmates, Werewolf Rey, lonely Ben, wolfblood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24290293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousPresence/pseuds/AnonymousPresence
Summary: Ben tries not to think of what his soulmate is like while Rey thinks about them all the time.Wondering and wanting.But then Ben thinks his soulmate has died, so the rational part of him thinks he should get a pet.  It just happens to be fate when an odd but friendly wolf dog shows up and only stays until the full moon fades.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 28
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! This is my first work in this fandom! I have been reading a lot of Reylo and I have to say, I'm obsessed. While I have a million ideas and stories that I'm working on to share, here's a little challenge for myself and for all of you to enjoy. I'll be updating every weekday to give my sanity to recharge during the weekend. 
> 
> I'll be alternating between Ben's POV to Rey's. Sometimes their chapters won't line up in time (you'll see) but I'll try to be clear!
> 
> This is my dump were all the tropes roam free.

* * *

**☾**

* * *

  
  


Ben knows he has a soulmate. 

It’s a hard thing to wrap his head around. Someone like him, quiet, boring, hot headed, violent, _ugly_ , has a soulmate. Someone tied to him, as he is tied to them. 

He imagines his mom and dad, two of the most opposite people, people that are awful together, _his_ parents are awful together. They yell and scream poisonous words at one another. They argue over everything, including Ben, the product of their so-called love. He wonders if that's what he has to look forward to.

If so, Ben doesn't want it.

He remembers the first time a mark that isn’t his appears on his skin. It tingles a little, perhaps just an echo of what the other body is feeling. It is a little thing, a cut on his chin. 

A swirl of emotions churns inside of his stomach as he stares at it in the mirror of his bathroom, a teenager with too big of a nose and even bigger ears.

There really _is_ someone out there for him.

But then he remembers his parents, bitter and angry, which lead to ignoring him and casting him aside like he was just an ugly reminder. 

So Ben just tries his best to ignore the marks. 

However, as time goes by and every time the odd sensation washes over his skin, Ben can’t help but to draw his attention to it. He has a _soulmate_. One who gets dinged up literally a few times a week, little scrapes and bruises on his knuckles, fingers, and knees. 

Oddly, it makes it real to him.

Someone out there playing ball probably skinned their knee or fell off their bike and got a nasty bruise from the handle bars. And that someone is _his_. 

He wonders if they think of him every time he gets into a fight and a new wound is scabbing, a mean bruise trying to heal, a nasty cut bleeding. 

He wonders and wonders and wonders and _wonders_.

He wonders if they think of him just as much as he does them. 

Ben is now trudging up the steps to his apartment, legs a little wobbly from the miles he ran. His neighbor slash friend, Armitage Hux, spots him outside of the mail boxes and gives him a nod, knowing well that Ben is usually abstains to participate in the art of conversation. 

He barely gives a half wave back at his neighbor slash friend in acknowledgement, desperate to get a shower and rid the sweat coating his body. His apartment is on the second floor, sleek and impersonal and quiet. It’s all modern lines and Ben is grateful for his job to afford luxury even though it comes with a large helping of stress. 

He shakes the thoughts of work out of his head and is greeted by the cool air of his A/C system, making him shiver. The sound of his footsteps are surprisingly muted against the modern dark grey wood floors as he heads into the bathroom. 

Ben tugs at the athletic shirt over his head in some sort of animalistic need to be free. His skin is damp with sweat, hair is an absolute mess, eyes wide and bright, just what running does for him. 

It’s his relief and escape. 

A sharp tingle that Ben is familiar with echoes in his bones at his knee. Even though he recognizes it, he still flinches because he’s older now and knows the implication of those sensations.

Whoever his soulmate was, they were either klutz (a hopeful guess), fought a lot (Ben shouldn’t judge with the amount of faces that met his fist), or even. . . (Ben really doesn’t want to dwell on the thought that whoever they were is in an awful situation, but of course those ideas run through his head the most and it makes him feel so useless that he can’t do anything but watch that aftermath on his skin.)

He tips his head down to look at his knee to take a gander at the new mark they’d gotten, lifting up his running shorts a bit to see a red and purple knee. It’s a rather angry looking bruise and Ben winces a little in sympathy as he watches a little cut run from the knee cap and down his shin a little. 

It must have hurt.

But nothing prepares him for the next mark. 

A sudden shock of blooming pain on his shoulder has Ben doubling over, clutching his shoulder with a cry. It's sharp and angry and crippling. It shoots down his arm to his finger tips that has him cursing and he wonders if he is having a muscle spasm—which is a little odd since he was running not weightlifting, but right now he can’t think of anything else.

But then the pain begins to recedes after a minute, Ben blinks and eyes widen and he thinks. . . thinks. . . It really can't be a soulmark, could it? He never. . . he never felt them before But when he straightens himself up, his eyes snap to the mirror, an actual cry escapes his lips in shock.

A large ugly crescent shaped bite mark tore at his skin, grotesque and deep. The incision then tears, sending another awful feeling that has him buckling forward and gripping the sink. It makes the bite look disfigured. Horror outweighs the pain, spiking down his spine as he feels the sensation again, but this time on his back. He quickly about face and looks over his shoulder to the mirror, watching a long tear rips down his skin, and he watches as more painful crescent shapes outline his hip.

His heart feels like it slows before stopping and his airway constricts. Never has his soulmarks _hurt_.

He can’t see blood oozing from the mirrored wounds, but he imagines it hot and plenty, pouring out from his shoulder, pale skin losing color, looking white and breaths away from death. 

More angry bite marks, more pain crashing through him like waves.

He barely hears himself roaring before his fist is flying, shattering the mirror that showcases the horror on his skin. 

_“STOP!”_

_Please stop hurting them. Please stop. Please please please._ But his words will never reach them. Can’t protect them. In a flurry of splintering glass, Ben is kneeling on the bathroom floor, hot tears burning his cheeks as the tickling feeling of the soulmarks leaves his skin.

He feels so fucking useless. 

He can’t do anything.

Just sits there in his fancy bathroom, kneeling in shards with bleeding fists and crying because he is so fucking useless. His head is between his knees, gasping for breath.

His soulmate is probably dying and he can’t do a fucking thing.

Fucking _useless_.

Ben Solo sobs against the cold tile of his floor, marks long gone.

And he wonders if his soulmate is too. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two of my torture! c:

* * *

**☽**

* * *

There is too much blood.

Hot, sticky, and the smell of it makes her want to retch.

Perhaps she already has because there is an awful taste in her mouth, sour and putrid.

She should be dying of blood loss. There should be a lightness feeling in her head, making her feel like she could just float away from the pain and never have to worry about it again. But instead, pain is all she feels, rooting her to the ground.

Her brain can't even fathom what is happening. The misery that laces her shoulder blocks out the feeling of all the other wounds that weeps blood. It feels like her arm was torn from her shoulder, or perhaps she no longer has a shoulder.

It is hard to breathe, her chapped lips are split, saliva came out of the corners from her incoherent screaming.

Her mind is hazy now, she can barely open her eyes, barely register the circling predator snapping it's maul at her. But she knows if she shuts her eyes now, if she doesn't command her legs to move, she is going to die; _not_ in a blissful floating way.

And what a shitty fucking ending to her not so great life.

She wants to go to college. She wants to see Finn and Rose more. She wants to get out from under Plutt. She wants to have something of her own. She wants a family. She wants _her_ family. She wants her parents. She wants to know if she has any siblings, uncles, aunts, grandparents. She wants to meet her soulmate who she has imagined often in the darkness of the night, remember the lingering marks that they had, fading fast and wishing she could kiss them away, hoping they'll reach them.

She wants and wants and wants and _wants_.

With a sob, she shakily pulls herself up to her knees. The sand is gritty under her hands and it hurts to move, let alone try and run away from the beast. So instead, Rey lifts up her leaden head and glares fiercely at the wolf in front of her.

It's difficult to see anything other than red; red on the ground, red on the monster's fur, red on her body.

There's just a little spiteful glee when she spits red at the creature and it curls it's lips back at her.

It's watching her with an insane intelligence, a sort of challenge in the gleaming yellow eyes. Rey shows her teeth and snarls with an animalistic instinct.

All she wanted out of tonight was one night away from Plutt. Joyous and happy, belly full of junk food since she scored a decent haul from a junker. With twenty bucks she and her best friend Finn were supposed to go into a food coma status and bask under the twinkling glow of the full moon in the bed of his pickup truck.

Instead she was dragged out in the middle of the desert, now bleeding profusely from being nearly mauled by a wolf who is only a few paces away. If she is just a bit more coherent, she would be questioning why the fuck was a wolf running around in a desert, but instead her brain is trying to command her legs to move. The wolf is watching her with haunted eyes that would make any sane person shutter. Instead she just growls at it again.

She is good at surviving. So this will just be another thing to add to her shit list of life trying to put her down. She just has to _get the fuck up._

But her body isn't responding to her anymore. The progress she made a few seconds ago is moot as she slides back onto her elbows, coughing up blood.

The wolf suddenly chuffs, and it sounds sickeningly like chuckling.

If she could use her vocal cords and tell the thing to fuck off, she sure would. It's just right now she's feeling raw and mute. It's her anger that keeps her awake.

But just barely.

Just then there is a light so bright and so sudden that Rey truly thinks that this really is the end of her story and this is some weird gateway bullshit people talk about before dying.

But one bright light forms two as it gets closer and she blinks, watching as a truck comes speeding through the desert.

The wolf flinches, turning towards the vehicle and snarls menacingly. It really must really be a cocky son of a bitch, as it doesn't shy away. It only shows its teeth while it's hackles rise, growling loud and warning, ready for a fight.

But the truck is speeding, kicking up so much sand that Rey has to close her eyes and shield her face to the ground. The truck slams into the large haulking body of the wolf, the sound of metal hitting flesh and bones sounds sickening and Rey would have thrown up if she hasn't already heaved what little is in her stomach.

"Oh my god, REY!"

The sound of Finn's voice creates a tidal wave of emotions inside of her, all her adrenaline seeping out of her veins. Her body is crying in relief as she slumps down into the sand. Finn in here and everything will be alright.

Finn leaps out of the truck, racing to her side. He barely casts a glance at the heap of the monster a yard away, crumpled and bloodied upon impact. He nearly trips over his feet as he scrambles out from the driver's side, but catches himself and then his is in her face, waving his hands around, eyes blown wide with worry.

"Rey? _Rey?_ Can you hear me? Oh my god. How many fingers am I holding up? Do you know who I am?" He shoots question after question and her brain isn't keeping up, his speech sounding farther and farther away.

As her vision gets blurry and her eyes close, Finn's voice is rising in panic, "No, no no no please. Rey, keep your eyes open!" But she is falling into a painless oblivion and the last thought in her mind is clear.

She wants to meet her soulmate before she dies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s day three! I know things are a little slow and I imagine everyone just wants them to hurry up and meet, but let's take our tiiimmeee. I tend to yap too much. xD 
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful weekend and I'll see ya'll on Monday!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I am terribly sorry to any and all errors. My impromptu beta (my sister) is tired of me bugging to ask her to read and edit my shit.

* * *

**☾**

* * *

It’s been nearly two weeks since that sickening night in the bathroom. He’s barely eaten, showered, and took a week off from work. 

That last one was Armitage’s idea after he practically beat down the door of his apartment, threatening to call the police if he doesn’t let him in because Ben wouldn’t stop destroying his apartment in remorse of his markless body.

Now Ben (big grouch) is muttering about being on house arrest by a testy redhead. Phasma and Hux are taking their turns literally caring for him like he is some incompetent child. 

It’s a tad insulting, but seeing how his temper has turned vicious and rabid, he is surprised his friends are still here and dealing to deal with his shit. His mood is as dark as a heavy storm cloud, heavy with rain and thick with static.

Even Poe drops by to weather Ben's attitude, but his visits are sparse because he always manages to get his blood boiling. So Hux has made it a rule that Poe would have to have _supervised_ visits. 

They all have taken a crack at asking Ben what happened. They've only seen him like this once when his dad passed away. He really doesn’t want to unpack _that_ emotional baggage. But he is bitter and sad and worried and hurt—it _hurts_ so damn much—that even his soulmate left him too.

Because. . . they must have. There hasn't been a mark. No echo of pain. No sensation. 

_Nothing._

So now Ben mourns in silence.

He feels like if he says his thoughts out loud, it would solidify into something true. So he keeps his mouth shut and glares sullenly at television with an intensity that could incinerate. When it doesn’t burst into flames, his moody cloud above his head darkens.

Perhaps Phasma—she is the smartest of his friends and the most attuned to these things—has an idea of what storm Ben is weathering after she is quick to notice Ben’s new hobby of watching the news. 

Well, watching is a mild way to put it. 

Ben is _obsessed_. The news is always playing, and his laptop is always powered up with daily news articles.

His eyes burn by after hours and hours of watching and searching. Anything for a missing person. Anything for a person mauled or attacked or in the hospital, or. . . or. . . (dead, but he gets nauseous thinking of that) and somehow made the news.

Anything.

Fucking _anything_.

But there is nothing but the sinking feeling in his stomach and he wonders if it’s his heart meeting an acidic end. 

His eyes are red by the end of day one, but he keeps the TV on, the sound filling the silence with bullshit that Ben doesn’t care about. 

Instead, his mind is a whirlwind of images and scenarios of a faceless person zipping through his mind so fast and so surreal he might throw up again. 

Armitage is fluttering around like a nervous mothering hen, forcing Ben to eat and drink, but is sure to step away quickly for when Ben ultimately throws the plate and glass to the ground and there is a satisfying sound of shattering that forces him back into the present.

He gives Ben paper plates after that. 

But now. . .

_Now._

Ben feels like suffocating. The sound that comes out of hiss mouth really couldn’t have come from him—it’s pitiful and whiny and a choked up sob (He may or may not have told Hux about his soulmate during this time). 

Hux bends down to meet him on the floor, careful of the mosaic decorating Ben has decided to do with his mugs, and places his freckled hand on his shoulder. 

“You know,” he starts, hesitant and awkward—because honestly, Hux does not do pep talks— “If something happened to your soulmate, you’re not alone.” _Your life still goes on,_ he wants to say but that is rather insensitive. Ben turns his face towards his neighbor slash friend, peeking at him through his greasy hair. Armitage has pink cheeks and is looking off to the side, like the words taste awkward on his tongue, but honestly he is doing a better job than Phasma—she’d punch his shoulder and tell him to ‘suck it up, buttercup’. A thought must have tickled Hux, because he is grinning and looking back to Ben, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I don’t think anyone could get rid of Dameron, so you’ve got him for life.”

Speaking of the cheery devil, Poe’s voice sounds from the living room, echoing in his once sterile home. “Honey! I’m hooome! And I come bearing gifts!” 

It’s the smell of empanadas that makes Ben’s mouth water, realizing that he hasn’t eaten anything solid in days. Let alone keeping it down.

But his heart feels a little lighter and his stomach doesn’t recoil of the thought of food so that must count for something.

Phasma peeks her head in to look at them and quirks an eyebrow up at the sea of broken pieces of ceramic. “I love what you’ve done with the place,” she says flatly, shaking her head as she goes and grabs a broom and dustpan, all while lecturing ‘you big idiots’ for sitting around ‘sharp pointy things.’ 

“Ooohh! Solo, I have the most brilliant idea,” Poe announces as he takes up the space of the doorway, ignorant of the sensitive and tender situation, all while spreading his arms out with a flare. “You should get a pet! BB is just the _best_ and she makes me feel better when I’m having a shitty day.” He is bouncing on his toes like he's an excited puppy. 

Phasma shoots him a deadly incredulous look that Ben is surprised Poe is still standing. “Are you _seriously_ suggesting he—” she breaks off with an annoyed huff, waving her hand as if to swat the idea out of the air.

Hux turns to glower at Poe. “He can barely take care of himself. I’m not going to watch after him and something else that requires someone to clean up their shit, you insensitive brute.”

Poe, as the immature flamboyant person he is, giggles at that. "I’m the insensitive one?”

“I'm right here, you know,” Ben grumbles from the ground, but the idea is playing in his head and he hates them a little for it (Mostly Poe).

“You can’t be serious, Dameron,” Hux deadpans, crossing his arms as his cheeks grow two cherry red spots on them. “Unless that thing is a fish, I veto that idea.”

They continue to bicker over Ben’s well being and the well being of his hypothetical pet, and while he is a little annoyed of their nagging, he can’t help but to be grateful to his friend. 

Overall, Ben feels like he’s taken his first breath of fresh air.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Um. Hi! I’m so sorry I missed Monday. A lot has happened over the weekend and my head's still spinning from it. But do not worry. I’ll still be adding five chapters this week. c:
> 
> Also please excuse my terrible errors. I noticed today I had a battle with 'was' and 'is'. I usually write in past tense but I like the way present tense flows but I'm obvious not cautious enough to catch myself when I make these mistakes. 
> 
> See you guys tomorrow!

* * *

**☽**

* * *

The night is full of clouded confusion (Rey) and gripping panic attacks (Finn) which doesn't seem to ever end.

The hospital is over an hour away. They won't make it in time with the amount of blood seeping from Rey's wound to Finn's truck seat and the loss of color from her normally sun kissed skin (Finn starts to panic again).

The truck wheezes as it flies over the speed limit and if Rey is more coherent, she'd say something about the sizable dent in the front had to have messed something up with the mechanics but instead she is just so focused on the night sky and not falling into blissful sleep (at Finn's request since it does more damages to his frazzled nerves when she closes her eyes for longer than five seconds) that she barely thinks about cars and wolves and her dying body.

Because she is.

Dying.

Buy Rey smiles softly towards the sky.

The moon is so full and huge, and she finds beauty in it's pearly sheen.

Finn continues his quick inspections of her every few minutes, dividing his attention from the road and making sure she isn't dead. But at one point, Finn sputters. His head whips back to her so fast, Rey is surprised he doesn't snap his neck with the forceful speed. Finn's eyes are beyond wide and his face is etched incredulously as he looks over at Rey's body.

Her clothes are torn and bloodied, but it doesn't make any sense as to how her skin looks _stitched back together._

" _What_ the actual _fuck_?"

Rey gives a little wheeze, perhaps it is meant to be a laugh if she wasn't dying, but her cracked lips twitch in amusement. "You just cursed."

"This is a _completely_ curseable situation!" Finn squawks, turning his attention to the road with a frantic flair to make sure he doesn't swerve and hit something (adding to more of Finn's spiking panic).

Rey giggles like she's drunk.

"Rey," Finn's voice is strained, which makes her force herself away from the looming moon and slowly rolls her leaden head to the side so she can look over at him with half lidded eyes. She sees his throat bob as he swallows thickly. "How are you feeling?"

It sounds like such a silly question. How is she feeling? _How_ is she _feeling_? A bloody beast of a wolf—a freaking _wolf_ in the middle of a damned _desert_!—attacked her and logically Rey saw the amount of blood, making the golden sand dark with red, but Rey feels. . .

She feels—

She takes an experimental deep breath, finding it not so difficult to breathe. Oh she still feels the pain, mostly an angry, howling sort of pain in her shoulder, hot and searing. But the rest of her? She's more afraid of the damage when the thing sunk its teeth into her side, the cusp of her soft, vulnerable belly. Is something punctured? Ruptured? She feels light instead of heavy with fatigue. Hot instead of cold despite her blood loss. Wild instead of a limp thing dying in an old musty truck (no offense to Finn).

Rey's eyebrows furrow in thought. "Not. . . bad," she tries, the words tasting odd on her tongue as she focuses back to Finn.

His skin is stretched tightly across his knuckles, a worried manic lit to his eyes. "Not bad? Not _bad?"_ he echos in disbelief, chewing his lip. "Rey, your body is healing fast. Like. . . _really_ , really fast."

It takes a moment for Rey to process what he is saying and she tips her head down to look at herself for the first time since the attack. It makes her nauseous to see that she is nearly completely stained deep red. Her shirt is torn in many places, and she can clearly see her mauled skin. But instead of punctures that are gushing blood, her skin looks like it was crudely closed up, slightly weeping but no longer a gaping wound.

It's like something is tickling her brain, the heavy fog receding slowly.

"What the fuck?" she whispers in a horrified awe.

"See what I mean," Finn flails a hand towards her. "A curseable situation!"

A wave of tears floods her eyes for a reason she can't explain. It's like she returns to herself at full force. She feels the awful bite on her shoulder pulse, so close to her neck that it terrifies her of that ' _what if'._

What if that creature got her a little more to the right, its menacing teeth puncturing her neck, her _throat?_ What if she had suffocated and choked on her own blood? What if Finn ran into the thing, he had to cry over her dead body? What if she died tonight all before tasting freedom? All before meeting her soulmate? All before finding out about her family? What if the wolf didn't die and came after Finn? Killed him?

Her chest begins to rise and fall rapidly with her quick intake of breaths and it's her turn to start panicking.

Finn spots this immediately.

"Hey, hey, hey. Nope. We're not going to panic. No panicking. Not at all. Do not panic." (He doesn't say that the panicking is his duty.)

Her chin wobbles as she stares at herself again.

_What is going on?_

"I. . . I," she gags on the letter, unable to get out the rest of the words. She swallows thickly, turning back to look at her dearest friend. "I can't go to the hospital like this."

Finn chokes on his spit. "W-w- _what?_ What do you _mean_ you _can't_ go? Of course we're going to the hospital! We're halfway there! I promise, just hold on, Rey. Please, _please_ hold on."

"Finn, look at me," Rey tries to stay calm, her nerves fraying which has nothing to do with this entirely bizarre situation. It's not lost on her that besides her mental state, her body is still holding on. She has lost too much blood, but she is somehow coherent and sufficiently speaking and _awake._ "How are we going to explain this?" she gestures to herself. "I was nearly dead twenty minutes ago."

Something inside of her whispers to her that she isn't going to die tonight.

Finn makes a strangled, whining sound at the reminder, but his shoulders are losing their spot around his ears. Then his head snaps up and then he is suddenly leaning to one side, a long arm stretched out and a desperate hand feeling along the floor while the other hand manages to steer.

Ironically, Rey clutches her seat tighter when they swerve a little. She did not survive an attack by a wild animal to die by getting ejected by Finn's truck as he flies down the highway, fucking swerving!

"What are you doing?" Rey snaps at him when they drift a little too close to the edge of the empty road.

Finn lifts up his hand, victorious when he picks up his cell phone. "I'm calling Rose."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phew. This chapter was kinda hard to write. I mean thank goodness I'm only doing 1k but then again, I don't think it's enough for the conversation that happens here.
> 
> Oh well. I'll weave more into future chapters! I'm hoping by the end of the week that I'll have Rey and Ben's chapters more parallel to one another. Aaaaannnnd maybe they'll meet this week. We'll see how much I work out (cause honesttllllllyyy, I'm going in blind here).
> 
> See ya'll tomorrow!

* * *

**☾**

* * *

Ben is gifted a fish.

From Armitage, of all people.

He is going on and on about the expenses he put out for this thoughtful gift. Of course he could not just buy a bowl, some gravel, maybe a cute plastic mini pineapple and fill it with some water and toss the fish in.

Nope.

He gets at least a twenty gallon tank with a filtration system and a timer light that has daylight settings, dusk and dawn, and even a night glow. He buys plants because he wants there to be an ecosystem and he buys snails to eat the algae that will grow and it will be self cleaning.

Because Armi is _such_ a (self proclaimed) good friend.

But Ben. . .

Ben isn't amused.

He thought their pet idea was some weird, twisted, inconsiderate methodology to help him take his mind off of his soulmate and possibly move on.

What the fuck does one do with a fish?

Oh, now he knows what to do. It's taking care of the _tank._ The constant sound of running water bothers him and he barely sees the pretty red and yellow beta, always hiding the the plants that somehow went from one to four in the few days, covering the tank completely like a kelp forest. The snails laid eggs _everywhere_ and now Ben is left to scrape them because there's _hundreds._ The light system is either too bright or his snails don't eat enough because there's green shit all over the glass walls and it smells kinda funny and he has to squeegee it. And he's learned that the light can't be too bright because his fish could get fin rot and fucking deteriorate! Not to mention he has to clean out the tank every few months, meaning pumping out the water and cleaning with marine friendly shit and then fill it back up with fresh water.

He wasn't planning on indulging his friends (mostly Poe) but now that he has a complicated ecosystem in the corner of his liver room, humming merrily as the pretty beta fish hides in the plants most of the time.

And there's no plastic pineapple. 

A knock at the door signals a guest and Ben tries not to groan. He just managed to get Hux out of his apartment not twenty minutes ago. He wants a moment of peace and his not so talkative neighbor slash friend is all too happy to show off all his newly learned marine knowledge. He wonders if Armitage should have bought himself a fish instead, seeing as both Hux and the fish are high maintenance and should be a pleasing companionship together. 

Unfolding his long legs, Ben stands and heads to the door, ready to hell his neighbor slash friend to fuck off for at least a day when he opens the door and then promptly freezes.

His mother is standing on the other side.

He is struck stunned to see Leia there, and he just stares at her like she is a figment of his imagination, floating into his apartment to haunt him.

A vivid reminder of their last meeting flashes in his head, dredging up mean words, angry and hateful, their mixed tears full of unsaid words.

But then she makes herself comfortable—as comfortable as she can be—settling herself on the sectional, setting her purse neatly on the coffee table.

"Hello Ben," she offers a sickening sweet smile. But it's wavering slightly. Like it's powdered sugar instead of honey and a simple breeze would blow it away, as well as some ugly words.

"What," Ben croaks, clearing his throat to swallow the pitiful sound before trying again. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," she sighs lightly. "Poe may have mentioned something."

Fucking _Dameron._

He should tell her to get the hell out. Get out and never come back. How dare she come here? The last time he had seen her was Han's funeral and that didn't go well.

Anger is an easy emotion for Ben, especially where his mother is concerned. But he feels so drained. The quick tidal wave of his ire rapidly floods away, his shoulders falling as he runs a large hand through his hair, musing it up into a small dark chaotic storm cloud.

"That still doesn't—"

"Come sit with me, Ben," she cuts off.

He clenches his jaw harshly, the rebellious boy inside of him wants to do the exact opposite. But he trudges further into the living room and sits himself into an armchair instead with a hint of petty.

Leia says nothing for a moment, only gazing at her son with remorseful eyes. She takes in a breath, shifting so she's facing him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looks like the perfect diplomat and nothing like the mother who kissed his skinned knees and sang him lullabies to sleep. "Poe told me—"

" _Don't,"_ his words slice through her tender tone. "Just don't."

She folds her lips inward, her face a perfect mix of sorrow and regret.

The silence stretches thickly between them.

"Your father," Leia starts and Ben flinches because he's sure as hell that he doesn't want to talk about that either. "Your father would leave the most interesting marks." She lifts up her hand, staring at it as if the connected scars were still there. "I used to be so infuriated with the amount of times I saw a new scar. It's like he was never careful."

"It's not like you have to bare those marks to too long," Ben says scathingly. "No one would know that your soulmate was some low class mechanic. Your reputation wasn't tarnished."

The words ring out between them and honestly Ben never wanted to say them. To his mother at least, as he was planning to ignore her for as long as he could but she's here and poking his wounded heard and he just can't.

He _can't._

Static fills Ben's ears. He doesn't want to listen. He doesn't want to hear about their sweet love that only soured in later years. Is this her twisted way telling him he is better off?

But Ben is one of the dearly few who shares soulmarks.

Well— _was._

He wanted to treasure it; he wanted to protect it; he wanted to love it. So different from his parents yet so similar to what is expected out of being connected to another.

"Why did you hate him?" Ben's voice is barbed and savage. _Why do you hate me,_ he wants to ask, but never omits.

Leia only looks more sadden, wilting like a flower before him. "Ben, I _never_ hated your father," she sighs, heavy and long. Wistful and sad. "I'm sorry we never showed you the better parts of our marriage."

It's not what he wants to hear, and frankly, he isn't sure what he wants her to say.

"His death only made me realize that I have to treasure my time more. My time with you, what my soulmate left me. And. . . I want to be here for you. . ."

Leia stands, crossing across his shiny hardwood floors to him and Ben tenses. She reaches out a hand and he tries hard not to flinch away from her. Her gentle fingers card through his long hair, tucking some locks behind a large ear.

It is probably the first time she has touched him in years.

His tongue feels thick and dry in his mouth as he tries to push out the words he wants to know, but is too terrified to find out. Tears blurs his vision a little as he fixes his eyes on the damned fish tank rather than Leia's sympathetic eyes.

He has to ask.

He _has_ to.

"Did. . ." he chokes. "Did you feel it when Han—dad," he corrects himself with a hard set to his jaw. "Did you feel him die?"

Leia leans forward, her elegant face sad and sincere. "Oh Ben. . . I never felt such pain."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! So I'm not sure yet if they'll meet this week but deefffiinnnaatteeelllyy next. C:

* * *

****☽** **

* * *

They're moving they're moving they're moving.

They're getting the fuck out of here.

Rey. . . Rey can't fathom how she has such amazing people in her life. People who watch her back (Finn), people who care for her (Rose), people who patch her up after a wolf attack (Paige), and people who go looking for the monster that did this to her (all of the above), only to find the body gone. (That's a terrifying thought. That the thing could be—probably—still out there looking for another poor soul to kill.)

That terrifying night, Finn turned the truck around just after ringing Rose. Her sister, Paige, is a vet tech in their teeny tiny little town. No one's not entirely sure how that place still open because who in the world brings cute animals into a desert? (But there was a killer wolf on the loose, so maybe people just hide illegal pets.)

After he told Rose what happened, she got Paige and it turned into a war of _Get her to the fucking hospital, you idiot!_ and _No, no, you don't understand, this is like some fucking X-Men shit!_

And it turned out that is really is some freaky shit when they pull up at the Tico's house, Rey wounds all clotted and started to close, with the exception of the initial angry, still seeping bite at her shoulder. (" _Vet school has not prepared me for this! I work with cats, dogs, and the occasional rabbit!"_ Paige was desperate not to shake too bad as she sewed stitches into Rey's skin.)

But now.

_Now._

They're leaving.

They had plans to leave this town as soon as they graduate high school.

It's just they didn't think they could do it the very next day.

Because.

_Because._

She's a werewolf.

A fucking, salivating, howling at the full moon, teen fiction worthy werewolf. (" _Books! I read books!_ _Harry Potter, Twilight, Shiver! None of them have not prepared me for this!"_ Rose cried in panic.)

And okay, it's not the fact that she _is_ a werewolf, it's the fact that it's already caused a _problem_.

She killed someone.

_She killed she killed she killed._

Her mouth still tastes like copper even in the aftermath of brushing her teeth and rinsing out her mouth repeatedly.

But blood still haunts her tongue.

Her first transformation was agony. Her throat was raw from screaming and then howling and whimpering.

It was like hot needles poking deep into his skin, and then injecting liquid fire into her veins. It burned and burned and burned and she was surprised that she made it out alive at the end of it.

An undersized wolf with fur that was a kaleidoscope of colors was hunched on the sad little cot and ratty old knit blanket that she kept with her from her days when her parents were around. She was disoriented, but there was a rage that she had kept locked inside of her heart that clawed its way out and pulsed through her veins.

Heavy hulking steps sounded from above.

"What the fuck is all that racket, girl?" Plutt's gravelly and savage voice came through the floor boards.

And _Rey._

Rey felt feral.

She snarled and snapped her jaw and prowled around the musty basement and it must have irritated her guardian, as he opened the door, gnashing his teeth angrily.

She didn't remember what he was yelling about. She didn't remember much from that night. The only thing that was in her mind was the hatred for this man and the situation she was placed in.

So when he came at her with a rusted unless hunting rifle from his pawn shop in a panic, she launched herself at Plutt's fat, flabby neck. Her jaw was smaller than that thing that bit her, but her teeth were no less sharp as they sank into his skin.

And just to be sure that the job was done, instincts whispered to her like a true guardian to shake her head, tearing his throat further and crushing his windpipe.

He sputtered and choked, the life oozing out of him as he couldn't get air into his lungs. He dropped heavily onto the cold damp basement concrete.

And the malicious part of her howled.

Now he died where he caged her.

But then morning rose and she came to surrounded by bits and pieces of various things; stuffing from the old couch, wood from the table Plutt held his gambling night, rugs were shredded, furniture chewed, everything was either damaged or destroyed. But nothing would ever compare to the taste of blood in her mouth.

She called Finn, her sobs distorting her words as she cried into the staticy landline. And when he busted down the door, he didn't hesitate to rush to her side. He cupped her wet, sticky cheeks and he's honestly the bestest friend in the entire world as he didn't even flinch at her bloody lips.

"We're getting out of here, okay?" he whispered—vowed—to her. "We'll figure it out."

She called the police that morning, claiming with a shaky breath that a rabid animal came into the house and attacked Plutt. She tells the police she was inside of her small little room when it had happened.

It wasn't a lie. There was a rabid animal (her) and Plutt provoked it (her) and it (she) did attack him.

So now they've moving.

They're high tailing it out of there so fast, their neighbors will blink and then there would be no trace of them.

And she should be so very happy. She has awful putrid memories of sad little town. It's a wasteland that will bury you quick in the desert sand if you're not quick enough.

But her grief is heavy in her chest as her and Finn climb into his old, dented truck and everything they possessed piled in the bed. Paige and Rose are behind them, their car filled to the brim and some furniture is shoved onto Finn's truck as well.

_Together._

They tell her they're all in this together, because they are family.

But she doesn't want to hurt them. She's terrified of what she did—of what she could do. Tears are heavy in her lashes as she clutches the old knit blanket to her chest and sobs.

She's a monster.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does this need editing? Abso-fucking-lutely. And you guys will be getting a chapter tomorrow since I’ve just got such a big headache and just getting this out makes my eyeballs hurt. 
> 
> See you tomorrow!

* * *

**☾**

* * *

His mother stayed for hours, stroking his dark hair as they cried together. They grieved over Han and his always flying spirit. Then after, with her soft words that Ben rarely heard as a child, brought out the truth from him, and Ben spilled those sadden words between his lips, happy to be rid of them. And then they mourned again.

It's been over two months.

Two whole months of no marks on his knees, the palm of his hand, his arm. Nothing.

To think that he could miss someone whom he never met. Perhaps it is the idea of someone who supports you, who is your compliment, who is supposed to make him a better person.

And Ben feels like he needs to be a better person.

So, maybe perhaps he isn't supposed to meet his soulmate—he feels like he's getting the short end of the universe—so he will do better for them.

For himself too.

One of the first things he does is makes plans with Lei—his _mom_ for lunch. She is too happy that he reached out to her first that she's sniffling on the phone and promises to make the reservation even though _he_ called _her._

Another thing is he makes plans with his friends. He needs to get out of his apartment and stop obsessing over the news and searching through countless articles on his laptop. As much as he wants to know, that wanting is burning inside of him, so he'll let it rest (for the time being. A quality of Ben Solo is obsession.)

Then he becomes ruthless at his job. Telling people no (the audacity) that he can't pick up their shift or take their client or basically be the company's bitch.

Yeah, he isn't very proud of that one.

So now it's a Sunday morning, the world still dewy and lazy, a peaceful quiet that Ben's favorite time to run, when he has the news on low (obsession, remember?), and he's lacing up his shoes.

The words like _attacked, mauled, killed, aggressive animal,_ snags his attention. He looks up at the screen and sees caution tape wrapped around a small shack. The authorities are in the look out for what they believe is some sort of aggressive dog that ripped out the throat of a man.

It makes Ben shutter.

But what little hope he may be holding onto vanished when he sees that man (which, ew), and the extent of his wounds (no shoulder bite).

So he reaches for the remote to turn the damn thing off and then suddenly—

He—

A zing tickles his hand, that has him suddenly frozen.

It. . . it really isn't. . . is it?

His breath stills in his lungs.

He feels it.

The movement is slow and unsure and hopeful as he rotates his wrist, palm up, and—

It's—

There's a thin mark slicing through the skin.

It's small, but it's there.

It's _there._

His heart feels like it's going to burst from his chest. Ben puffs out his breath before heaving in another lungful. Fat tears begin to streak down his cheeks and he still doesn't realize he's crying.

Alive.

They're _alive._

The relief of seeing another mark on his skin nearly makes him pass out.

He almost doesn't want to go out for a run. He wants to spend the entire day stroking his palm, wishing for more than anything that he could somehow reach out to them and let them know how happy—truly wonderfully happy he is in this moment.

Armitage is the first to know, standing at the mailbox before Ben makes the trek to his favorite running spot smile wide and cheeks practically hurting.

"Well, look at you. Seems like that fish is really working wonders."

Ben—who would usually have a snarky thing to toss at Hux's smug face—only gives his neighbor slash friend a gentle smile.

It makes Hux _slightly_ uncomfortable.

"I got another mark," Ben explains in a hushed voice, as if yelling at the top of his lungs would somehow pop the bubble of happiness that he's floating in.

"Oh," Hux's breath whooshes out before he's reaching over and awkwardly patting one of his broad shoulders. "That's. . . That's good. Now you don't need a fish."

But Ben only laughs. "I'm keeping the damn fish."

"Now _that_ was the correct answer," he grins before turning back to pluck out envelopes out of his slot, various community announcements that will meet the shredder. "I'm off to Phas', enjoy getting sweaty and running around in circles. Don't get eaten by a bear."

Perhaps that phase is a little too sharp for the sensitive, tender spot in his heart but Ben only waves off his neighbor slash friend.

_Alive alive alive alive._

In the heart of the hustle and bustle of the city, there is an oasis, a slice of wildlife. It's large enough to not be crowded, but there is a fair amount of people who come to lush green park. Though it's so early on this Sunday morning that he knows that there are few people with their strollers and their dogs running along side of them. All the more for him to grin stupidly. The city is too loud and too noisy and too much. The trees are tall with lush green leaves, and _sure_ that might lead to more ticks, and _sure_ the dirt path leaves his shoes dirty that he learns to take off his shoes immediately entering his apartment, but it's calming to Ben.

The pounding of his feet hitting the ground matches the pace of his heart, which could be a problem, as the cadence was still fluttering at a rapid pace.

He needs to stop.

But he only pushes further down the trail.

The air is crisp and clean, with a cold edge that hurts his lungs but he's okay with that. He hasn't been running in the agonizing month and now it only helps him ground himself. He isn't sure why he stopped for so long.

Oh wait, that's right.

He thought his soulmate was dead.

But now.

_Now._

He is practically skipping instead of running at his normal brutal pace because he feels so happy. So happy it makes him feel light. Light like he is flying (which is ridiculous since he is such a large man).

There's a snap to the right and Ben looks because he likes to look at the birds but—

It's not a bird.

It's—

_Don't get eaten by a bear._

Hazel eyes are watching him. Hazel eyes on a—

There's no wolves in the fucking city.

A uncomfortable trill runs down his spine as he picks up his pace, moving away from—

It has to be some large dog, right?

Only—

It's ears swivel towards him, tail wags and it—

It starts to follow him down the trail.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s my Saturday post to make up for last Monday. I’m going to spend the rest of today and tomorrow going back and tweaking/editing all of my chapters because good lord, posting a chapter literally as soon as I finish writing is the worst idea I’ve ever had.

* * *

**☽**

* * *

Their eyes are wide and full of wonder as they take in the city, spiraling around them in tall buildings and an impressive grid of technology.

It's nothing like Jakku.

Rey wants to apologize profusing for causing them to move so quickly, but Paige rolls her eyes. Finn and Rose clutch her hands tightly and securely. Paige is like their pseudo mother, all orphans to fend for themselves. Finn found Rey, and then later Rose when Paige couldn't afford anything in the bustling city their parents raised her and Rose in.

Jakku felt like the gateway to hell, with its blistering heat, cold nights, and coarse sand that coats your lungs in hopes to suffocate.

Paige vowed to her sister, under the blanket of their shared bed in a rundown, studio apartment, whispering promises that they will not be in Jakku forever. That she'll save enough to give Rose a better life, just like her parents had done for Paige. Being eighteen and taking care of her little sister was not one of her life goals, but she's determined to do her best.

So now, now that they're out of that hell hole, she should be proud. And in a way, she is. But now she's scared, even more when she clutched her sister's hand, looking upon the wasteland they were forced to move.

She's afraid.

Their lives were supposed to be easier, not harder at this point.

With their best friend being something out of a fiction horror story, Paige makes another vow silently to herself as they move into a two bedroom apartment.

She'll do everything in her power to keep Rose, Finn and Rey safe.

Werewolf genetics be damned.

They're all an excited bundle of nerves as they cram themselves into the apartment with beige carpets and white walls. But it's already a thousand times better than anything in Jakku. The water runs out of the faucet clean and clear, warming up within seconds rather than minutes. It's pet friendly, so no one should question any sounds Rey might make. 

Now Rey is biting her thumb nail as she surveys the space in front of her.

"No way," Finn states firmly.

Rey shrugs, eyes alight with her mental picture. "Yes way! There's plenty room for a twin mattress, I can put up more shelves, hang fairy lights. Oh! And pillows, Finn! I can have _pillows!_ I don't have a lot of clothes. Oh, Finn, it's _perfect!_ I can be like Harry Potter, without all the traumatic family issues."

"You already have traumatic issues—wait, that's _not_ the point! We're not putting you in a _closet!"_

"Walk-in closet, Finn. There's so much room! Besides, we all need our own space."

Rose skips out of Paige's room, an excited glee on her face. "Did you see the size of the _closet?_ I could fit a bed, clothes, and—"

Paige follows behind her, looking like she can't decide whether to be annoyed, amused, or exasperated. "Rose, it's a closet."

"See? She agrees!" Finn waves his arms.

Rey and Rose give him a flat stare.

He only sighs, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "Okay, _okay_. I get we need our own spaces. How about I take the closet, and Rey, you can have the bedroom. You deserve a bigger space than the hallway—"

" _No."_

The sharp word is full of aggression and possession that it instantly freezes the entire room. Rey has a fierce glare, hand hands on both sides of the doorway, lips nearly pouty as she stakes her claim. . .

But then with a jerk, she blinks, her expression melting and Rey comes back to herself before her face falls. She leans to the side, thumping her head against the wall with a heavy sigh.

"Shit. . . shit. I'm sorry," she mutters, shutting her eyes and willing to shut off the feral voice that has taken residence in her head. _Mine mine mine mine mine den den den den den protect protect protect protect._

But her friends, sweet and loving and caring and so understanding of something no one understands, only smile and nod to her.

But of course, Rey's warm and fuzzy feeling evaporates within the next full moon.

Finn absolutely _hates_ it. He hates watching Rey crawl into the large cage like dog kennel, even as she repeatedly tells him that it's fine and she doesn't want to hurt anyone, but it kills him when he has to latch the cage shut and folds his lips inward.

Rose reaches over and holds his hand and they both wince when Rey accidentally bangs her head against the top when she adjusts herself.

"It's going to be fine," Rey tries to soothe them, but even it sounds hollow to her ears, her fear bleeding into her tone.

Paige is working overnight at the group home (she's still trying to find work in a veterinarian office) but she wanted to take off even though Rey knows well they need the money.

"Why don't you shut the door, so you guys don't have to see me?" Rey suggests weakly, grimacing when her muscles give a haunting spasm, promising _soon._

Finn looks less thrilled but Rose gives her an unsure sympathetic smile before clicking the door shut.

In the dark, Rey holds her hands to her mouth, crying as silently as she can as her body breaks and morphs and changes and _hurts hurts hurts hurts_ —

And then she's a wolf.

"Rey?" Finn whispers quietly and her ears swivel towards his direction and Rey gives a little whine in reply.

The closet door opens and the harsh hallway light illuminates their faces and Rey can easily see her friends, her _pack,_ watching her with worried faces.

She begins to pace as much as she can in the cage, whining and crying.

_I want out I want out I want out I want out run run run run._

She scratches and claws at the kennel, attempting to dig under the brackets before swooping her head to try and bite her way out.

"No, no no no," Finn tries to soothe Rey. He stupidly attempts to reach between the bars, but Rose swats his hand.

"Finn, you can't just _do_ that!"

It makes Rey pause and makes a grumbling sound in reply. _That_ _was pretty stupid, Finn._

The two notice her reaction, her stall in her frantic moments, and then they spend the rest of the night talking to her (mostly laughing at Finn's expense), keeping the wolf relatively calm.

When the sun rises, Rey is bursting with energy. Finn is slumped against the wall, drooling a little and Rose sleepily wipes her eyes as she helps Rey out of the kennel after she accidentally cuts her palm on the uneven dents of the cage from her teeth.

"That. . . wasn't as awful as I thought. Damn fiction books lead me wrong," she teases with a drowsy voice.

Rey is practically bouncing on her toes, an itch under her skin despite her tired muscles and bones.

_Run run run run run._

"I think I need to let out some energy. I might go for a run in that pretty park we saw when moving in. Remember?"

Rose nods, before blinking and then frowning. "What if you. . . I dunno, lose some of that energy?"

"I'll use a payphone," Rey chirps back, already wrestling for some sweats and a t-shirt. "I just. . . I just need to get out for a bit, you know?"

"I guess?"

"Stoptalkplezzz," Finn mutters in his sleep and Rey snorts before helping Rose lift their not so morning person friend up and into his room. When they get him settled, Rey leans into Rose, pressing her nose into her cheek before rubbing it with a snuffle (It must be a weird wolf thing but Rose doesn't even bat an eyelash).

"I'll be fine."

But Rose still puckers her lips before she ducks into her room (Paige's walk in closet) and yanks out some shorts and shirt. "Wait, I'll go with you."

"You don't have to," Rey tries to reassure her.

"Yeah, I know, but girl, I need to start doing something," she giggles, poking at her maybe two precent of body fat on her stomach.

But Rey only rolls her eyes and the two girls leave their apartment, heading to the park.

Everything is fine.

It is.

The sun is peeking through the canopy of trees and Rey never felt so _alive._

It's fine.

Only until it isn't.

A wonderful breeze blows through, carrying a sweet and smoky scent that has her stopping in her tracks.

"Rey?" Rose pants, slowing down from their jog.

But Rey isn't listening. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is agape and she can _taste_ the scent on her tongue.

The next thing she knows is that she's on all fours, a girl one minute and a wolf in the same breath, racing down the dirt path, leaving a trail of clothes and a shocked Rose behind her.

" _Rey!"_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is sick, crazy, and on fire. These are hard times and I hope you and your loved ones are safe. I know it's not the case for all of you and I know that there is very little I can do for you, but here's Monday chapter to take your mind off of it just for a moment.

* * *

**☾**

* * *

His nerves are making deep grooves in Ben's conscience with wicked claws.

The wolf dog thing is _still_ following him.

It trots behind him, ears up, tail waving, tongue out.

Yeah okay. This is fine. This is someone's dog.

Which is very keen on following him. It doesn't come up any further than a few feet away, let alone dart past him. So yes, following.

His skin is prickling with awareness and it's like his good mood from this morning is sapped away only to be replaced by an uncomfortable borderline panicking thumming in his chest.

Suddenly, the thing slows, which is funny as it makes Ben slow down as well, until they've finally come to a halt.

Ben turns himself around in a measured spin, which has the wolf dog thing wagging the tip of its tail.

The ensue staring.

He doesn't know much about pets, but he finds a beauty to its fur. It reminds him of fall when the leaves are changing in a warm hue and even though it's a dying season, the leaves showcase their beauty before falling, a promise of spring leaving hope to sustain through the winter.

Though while he can appreciate the fur, it's the eyes that have really caught his attention. Did dogs have green eyes?

Right now it's standing still as a statue, the only thing giving away its vitality is the twitch of its wet nose and the slight wagging.

Curiously, Ben takes a step back and the wagging stops and the ears drop and it lets out a mournful whine.

A flush warms his cheeks. "I don't have anything to feed you," he finds himself saying.

Why in the flying fuck is he talking to a animal?

The thing lets out a rumbling whine at him and steps closer. Ben takes a step back and it freezes, making another pitiful sound.

Ben finds that he does not like these sounds. If this is what begging sounds like, then he's certainly _not_ getting a dog.

"I don't have food!" Ben holds his hands up. There is a need to apologize sitting heavy on his tongue, but that's absurd because it's an animal; It can't _understand_ him. He can't tell if it has a collar, and he can't hear a jingling of metal tags, so he wonders if it's microchipped or something.

Ugh, what is he thinking? Taking it to the vet to find it's owners? What if it's an illegal pet? He can't imagine the city allowing something that looks so much like a wolf to be a person's pet.

Oh god, what if it really is a wolf and it's from a zoo and it escaped it something?

His head is starting to have a dull ache concentrated right at his temples.

But when he focuses his attention back onto it, he nearly jumps out of his skin, finding the wolf dog thing sitting right next to him, it's head tilted up and watching.

Nope, the zoo is ruled out.

Though with this new angle, it gives enough for Ben to see that there's no collar and he sighs heavily.

So what is he supposed to do now? Call animal control? Take it to a shelter?

The wide, hazel eyes have not left his, large paws trotting in place, like a little dance that he can't help but to allow his lips to pull into a smile. Ben finds himself letting out a small huff of a laugh.

It stands straighter at this, it's tail swishing back and forth with more force, clearly pleased.

Fuck.

Well, he guesses he can watch over it until he figures out what to do next (cause honestly he has no fucking clue). Ben turns back to the tail, giving an awkward gesture to the wolf dog thing and finds that it barely needs prompting and together, they begin to jog side by side down the path.

It's. . . actually rather nice.

Fuck, maybe he really should get a dog (he'll never hear the end of it from Poe).

It keeps pace with him even when Ben decides to go a little faster. It lolls out its tongue merrily, skipping besides him in an excited cadence. He finds it easy to imagine a portion of his life with a lively companion and then he grimaces to himself. He shouldn't be getting attached. Especially if this wolf dog thing belongs to someone.

But then Ben finds himself heading back to his apartment, wolf dog thing (he really needs to call it something else) in tow. They gain a few funny looks as they strut down the sidewalk and he can't tell if it's because of how lupine it looks or the fact it isn't leashed.

And that thought leads to another and the universe must be telling him something because they are passing a pet store and Ben just stops and stares.

The wolf dog thing looks up at him curiously.

Ben sighs. "Come on."

It needs no other prompting, following him inside of the store with no hesitation.

The store clerk greets him distractedly, ringing up a customer. Ben pays no mind, a bit nervous about all the enticing things for a dog surrounding his companion, but he's shocked to see it still standing by his side, ears up and nose twitching.

Ben walks over to a little isle with an array of leashes and collars in (too) many different styles and colors.

"Hello, can I help you find—Oh, I'm sorry sir. Your dog needs to be leashed," the sale's clerk says to him, giving a polite apologetic smile.

He grits his teeth and fights the urge to sarcastically gesture to the display in front of him. Instead, he swallows his barbed words and tries to think of an excuse on the fly. "I uh, they chewed it and I'm just here for another."

The wolf dog thing looks up at him with flat ears.

Ben immediately finds himself trying to amend his poor excuse. "But, uh, they're well behaved?"

Those ears are back up and he sighs in relief.

The clerk smiles down at his companion, her eyebrows high and she whistles low. "That's quite a wolf dog you have there."

Ben's brain stalls.

She turns her attention back to him, smiling excitedly. "Boy or a girl? What's her name? Did you get her from a breeder? How old? Did you train them yourself?"

And now his brain is swirling. His tongue feels dry and sandy and he honestly has no fucking clue how to answer her. Think of something.

_Think!_

"Uh," he supplies eloquently.

But thank god she is distracted when the wolf dog (no longer a thing) turns it's head to peer at the woman. Its ears fall flat but otherwise stays at Ben's side.

"Who's a good boy?"

The wolf dog turns its head away.

But the clerk is no less deterred. "How about a good girl?"

This time, the wolf dog's ears perk up, swirling towards her, yet still not turning around. Ben tips his head down to find that it (she?) is staring up at him.

And honestly, Ben is pretty much defenseless against those eyes. "I think _you're_ a good girl," he says to it (her).

Her tail starts wagging. Hard. It thumps against the floor and she even marches her feet again.

They end up leaving the store with a pretty yellow collar and a matching leash and for a moment Ben doesn't think about what he's going to do when he gets back to his apartment or what he's going to do about work or even if his apartment even allows this breed (fat chance).

He's just content to walk down the sidewalk, her claws clicking against the concrete as she trots next to him.

Today, all in all, is turning out to be the best day for Ben Solo.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on the shorter side. But considering the last chapter and the next are nearly at 500 words over, I'm not that disappointed with myself.
> 
> I am finding that some scenes are harder to condense and some of them are meant to be short and savored. This challenge to myself is teaching me a lot about my writing habits and how I need to improve.
> 
> Stay safe and lots of love to everyone hurting and struggling in this time.
> 
> See you all tomorrow!

* * *

**☽**

* * *

_It's him it's him it's him it's him._

Her _soulmate._

It hasn't quite registered to Rey that this is not the way to meet him. She shouldn't be a wolf right now, she shouldn't have ran away from Rose, she shouldn't be out in daylight, but all she can think about is him.

_Mate Mate Mate Mate._

He must be taking her to his den, as they come up to a building and she can pick up his scent faintly in the air. They begin to climb steps and her tail is moving so fast because she's so happy. She found her mate and he has a den and they can protect each other and have pups—

A gasp brings her out of her fantasy and a redheaded man is standing a few meters away, staring at her in horror.

"W-what is that _thing?!_ And _where_ did you find it?"

_Intruder intruder intruder intruder._

She whips her head to face this man. Rey's lips curl back and she lets out a low growl in warning. What little color he has drains from his face and frantically looks to her mate, wide eyes in panic.

Rey can _taste_ his fear and _oh_ does it make her feel _powerful_.

" _No,"_ the word is firm and harsh and strong and it comes from her mate and when she turns to look at him, she finds that he is frowning at her. He then moves to stand in front of the intruder.

That power suddenly drains from her and she feels like a small pup.

No?

What did she do wrong?

Her ears fall and her hackles lower.

"Armitage is a friend," her mate tells her, reaching out to pat the intruder's shoulders. Armitage's face twists like he ate a lemon and begins to squawk.

"Ben, you're _clearly_ not in the right state of mind. It could have rabies, fleas, some unknown disease. It looks magey and feral and why the fuck are it's paws so big? What _breed_ is it? It looks like a wo—"

"It's a wolf dog."

The intruder— _friend_ — makes more strange noises. Rey begins to tune them out as they continue to communicate and she presses herself against her mate's leg.

She promises she'll be good, don't be mad. And it feels like she's forgiven when he places his warm hand against her head and begins to rub her ears.

Her mate is just so _nice._

The friend says something, but she is too content to sit here with her mate's hand soothing circles in her ears. But then he shifts and the redhead is walking away. She looks up at her mate, watching as he unlocks a door and pushes it open.

And she—

She—

She _launches_ herself inside.

_Den den den den den._

Her mate's smell is potent and strong and she can taste it. A playful urge over takes her and she begins running from room to room, barely having a moment to take in more of his scent and the look of his den. It's just so big! So spacious! Plenty room for them and pups!

But then she finds where he _sleeps._

It's a large bed and she launches herself on it. Her tail is wildly waving back and forth and she throws herself on her back and kicking her legs up into the air. She then rolls herself in his scent and she's starting to smell like him and it's the best thing ever and the sheets are warm from the sun and—

"No! Off! Bad dog!"

Rey pauses at the sound of his stern voice, opening her eyes to stare at her mate— _Ben._

She flops over so she's right side up and she places her head against the pillow in a pleading submission.

"No dogs on the bed," he states, but doesn't move and neither does she.

A moment goes by and Rey only burrows into the sheets more.

He sighs and she takes it as a victory.

She knew her mate would understand.

Oh, a girl could get used to this.

Girl.

_Girl?_

Something is itching her brain, like it's tucked into the recess of her mind and it's putting up a fight to come out. It's something important. . . something she needs to remember.

Everytime she attempts to focus on it, it slips from her grasp.

But then Ben joins her on the bed and all complicated thoughts dissolve as she snuggles herself against his warm side. He strokes her fur from the top of her head to the tip of her tail and she imagines that she can happily make this her own den too.

"What am I going to do with you?" his low rumble of a voice speaks to her. She only huffs in response, burrowing her head into his lap.

_Safe safe safe safe safe._

Maybe she had come on a little too strong back in the park.

But the animalistic instincts drew her to him. Her little paws raced through the wooded trails, following his delectable scent mixed with salty sweat. She just wanted to lick him then.

Now she's close, she gives his other hand a lick that has him chuckling.

She's happy and feels full and feels like he will easily transition into her pack. . .

But something strikes through her just then.

Something feels. . . _off._

The air stirs around her in a hum.

_Come on, Rey, think!_

Wait.

_Rey._

That's her name, isn't it?

" _Oh my god, REY!"_

" _Holy shit, Rey! Rey? How many fingers am I holding up?"_

" _This is gonna hurt. Ready, Rey? One two three_ —"

" _Rey, you can have the bedroom. You deserve a bigger space than a closet."_

" _Okay. And Rey, if you need anything, anything happens, whatever, just please call me?"_

" _REY!"_

Her. . .

Pack.

Her _pack._

Rey lifts up her head, swiving around, nose twitching.

She. . . has a pack. . . right?

Why can't she remember?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize about my errors! I didn't skim over this one. 
> 
> Stay safe, lovies!

* * *

**☾**

* * *

Ben watches her (he should really name her, but then he will grow more attached to her than he already is).

She's laying on the couch. Stretched out, on her back, head lolled to the side, and her legs bent in the air. She looks ridiculous, in a cute kind of way.

But even though she is cute, he still doesn't want dog fur everywhere.

So he should set some boundaries, establish some rules.

Rules like no dogs on the couch. Or the bed. Or any furniture.

But here they are, Ben in the armchair and dog sprawled out in his usual spot on the couch.

What should he even do? The whole plan was to. . .? Get her home and do what exactly? He's sure his apartment won't approve of a dog this size or her breed, and even before he thinks about keeping her (because he has allowed that fantasy to play in his mind), she's too gentle, too smart to not be someone's beloved pet.

Should he take her to the vet to check for a chip?

Should he put up flyers with her wild, beautiful face?

Should he post on his hardly used facebook about her?

"Do you belong to someone?" he asks her like she would answer. His only reply is a little huff as she burrows her nose further into the back cushions.

So much for laying down the law.

There's a knock on his door and before Ben can even blink, she is up like a rocket, standing by the door and sniffling. He's shocked that she isn't barking or growling (because _dear god_ does he hear some of his neighbors pets). Ben stands and she dutifully stays by his side as he bends down to look through the peephole. It's Armitage. Cautiously, he opens the door, keeping a careful eye on the wolf dog as her ears perk up in interest.

Ben can't be more proud that she doesn't growl and easily let's his neighbor slash friend walk inside. . . carrying some bags.

"There's a box out there too," Armitage says in lieu of a greeting, looking down at the dog with a slight frown.

The box is large and Ben freezes as he stares at the picture on the front. It's a dog crate. One of those black, cage-like things and the dog in the picture can't be that _happy_ to be in it. When he doesn't bring it in right away, Hux sighs, coming out to do it himself.

"Since my fish wasn't good enough for you," Armitage grumbles, sliding the box inside with some exertion.

"Hux, I don't think I'll need this," he tries to keep his tone calm, he really does, but his words are barbed that makes Armitage give him a _look._ An unfamiliar feeling sits heavy in his chest. It's a fucking _cage._ It's only as Hux finishes setting it up, does she come over to his neighbor slash friend (that he really wants to punch in the face) and steps inside of it easily.

Ice freezes Ben's veins so suddenly, it hurts for an entire different reason.

She's _definitely_ someone's pet.

"Oh come on, I haven't even put in the bed yet. Out you get," Armitage argues with her, gesturing her with exaggerated arm movements like she is some dumb thing and needs more then one coaxing.

She proves him wrong by walking out without hesitation.

Hux stares at her for a minute before he mutters to himself and tosses in a thin cage mat with a bit of padding inside. Then he turns and begins to unpack the bags he hauled in. Ben stands off to the side, becoming more unsure of himself as each second that trickles by.

A shock and cold and wet presses against his hand and he jerks, finding her standing at his side, nose pressing against him and ears up and eyes focused solely on him.

And Ben. . .

Ben awkwardly bends and folds himself, sitting on the floor and then his long arms are full of dog as she attempts to fit herself in his lap. His hands weave into her fur and her tail thumps against the floor and Hux just looks at them with a roll of his eyes.

"I'd never take you for a dog person. Dameron is going to be _thrilled,"_ he says flatly. There's a flash of green and Armitage is holding up a small pot with what looks like long grass in it.

"You bought me a plant?" Ben asks increduley. The dog twists and her focus zeros in on it.

Hux tsks. "It's not for _you._ It's for her. Apparently this plant is safe and beneficial for dogs and cats to chew on."

Why are animals so weird?

He places the small plastic pot on the floor and the dog climbs out of Ben's lap quickly, stepping all over his body along the way. She shoves her nose into the plant and her tail swishes back and forth rapidly.

"See? She _appreciates_ my gift." Armitage nods once and heads to the door. "Well, as the good friend I am, I'm going to leave you two to bond. Just make sure she doesn't shit anywhere."

Hux's back is turned, so he doesn't see the way she lifts her head with flat ears to stare at him. She gives off what Ben thinks is an annoyed huff.

"And honestly, did you even name it yet?"

Her head swivels back to Ben, as if listening for his answer. As if she truly understands the conversation.

"Kira," Ben blurts. She tilts her head in consideration and then the tip of her tail gives a little wag. He'll take it.

"Right," Armitage says, leaning against the door and oblivious to the obvious clues of the intelligent creature in the room. "Ben, Kira," he bids them, leaving the apartment and now they're alone, watching one another.

Ben sees a thick braided colorful rope and he snatches it, watching with interest as Kira ducks her head and chest low. He gives it a shake and she follows the movement. Tension is building in her stance and Ben feels a little bit of a gleeful child as he tosses it, sending it, and Kira, off to the other side of the room.

She brings it back, but doesn't let go, keen to try to hold her own against Ben and his strength in tug-o-war.

When she wins, she trots around him and what Ben thinks is a victory lap.

Hours pass by and bleeds into days. He settling into this whole pet thing. And boy, is it an adjustment.

Having to walk her periodically (Hux did buy puppy pads but she huffs at the _m and stands at the door._ And she does _not_ like when Ben watches. _),_ having to cook rice and chicken _("Because honestly Ben, you can't just feed her any random kibble. Settle her stomach first and then introduce her to brand dry food,"_ Hux snaps on the phone and Ben is severely annoyed because he knows for a fact he gained this information just that day.), and having her all over his couch and bed (sadly still no rules).

Kira's. . . rather particular. And peculiar. Every night, now at dusk before the moon is luminated and the sun has just set, she barks at Ben, trying to get his attention. After she's successful, she trots over to the damn cage, going inside and sits and then looks at Ben.

Waiting.

It's odd. Maybe she was crate trained, but it takes him a moment to understand she wants him to shut the crate.

She barks at him sharply when Ben doesn't lock it after shutting it.

It's not something he really likes, but. . . she's insistent.

But then night truly falls and she is like a different creature. She paces in her cage and growls in low warnings every time Ben steps close to try and let her out and soothe her (because she's been such a good girl, and it's only been at night) but she shows her teeth and tries to scratch at the bottom of the crate, fluff everywhere from the destroyed mat.

It gives him anxiety and it hurts to keep her in there but he finds that talking to her calms her a bit to not destroy the bedding anymore than it is. She still snarls at him when he comes close.

Maybe. . . maybe he should take her to the vet.

But by morning, Kira is back to normal.

And normal Kira is in love with the stupid plant. She waits by it every morning, staring at Ben with an intensity that makes him get up and waters it. Satisfied, she sits down next to it, snuffling at the leaves.

"You're supposed to _eat_ it."

She huffs at him.

They fall into an easy routine and Ben only has a little guilt that she is someone's pet. But the guilt is easy when she lays her head into his lap as he watches the stupid news.

Then the third night happens, she wakes him up from a deep sleep, gently licking his fingers.

There should be some questions coming to mind, like why she isn't in her crate that she insists on being locked in by nightfall, does she need to go outside because she can't wait til morning, is she hungry, but he is just too tired to think about anything for longer than a second.

Ben is sluggish and sleepy, only summoning enough energy to pet her between her large ears as she tilts her head and gently licks his wrist.

" _I'm sorry,"_ the air stirs.

On the fourth morning when the sunlight fills the room and Ben rises from bed, he finds that the crate is open and Kira's nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate meee!
> 
> Everything will be fine. I promise.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry about yesterday! I fell behind real quick! Hopefully I’m able to post a chapter tomorrow, but if not, I’ll see you Monday with hopefully an extra chapter next week.
> 
> I literally just finished typing this so it is chock full of errors.

* * *

**☽**

* * *

The cold creeps into her bones, the city still blinking awake, some still sleeping in. It's barely dawn and Rey is shivering, wearing too large sweatpants and a t-shirt that falls to her knees.

_It smells like him._

Her feet are bare as she stumbles her way through the city, disoriented and confused. Her body feels disjointed, uncoordinated. She finds a pay phone but then realizes she has no money and groans pathetically. And even if she did, it's hard to recall any of her friends' numbers.

Her mind is a muddled mess, blurry and muffled and her body isn't that much better. It's like her muscles forgot how to contract and release, her movement awkward like a newborn pup trying to stand on shaky legs.

Something inside of her is humming like a mantra.

_Go back go back go back go back._

To what? To who?

 _Him him him him him_ as another part of her argues _pack pack pack pack pack._

Her temples throb as pain seeps through her skull. If she thinks too hard, the pain flashes in warning at her temples. If she tries to linger in her memories, trying to recall _anything,_ it strikes again.

Breath is drawled deep into her lung as she shuts her eyes. Through the pain, something in her mind is echoing faintly.

But it's not.

It's not _inside_ of her.

The wind is humming in a language she can understand. A language with no words. The tree leaves are chattering, the dirt and grass are speaking—

Rey chokes.

—to her.

She licks her chapped lips and shuts her eyes.

_Show me. Help me find my pack._

Something inside of her howls.

And then—

She—

Her eyes open.

Rey begins to stumble, now with a determination and purpose. The wind guides her with a gentle breeze when her mind stalls for a moment, the war still raging inside of her. There's people on the sidewalk, giving her an odd glance at her seemingly walk of shame, but other than that, keep to themselves. They all smell wrong to her. They're not—

—not her pack.

The longer she moves, her muscle memory comes back and she's able to keep her spine straight instead of pitched forward. Her strides are more confident, her hands no longer using the side of buildings as purchase.

The aesthetically planted trees hums with their leaves.

Her memory is still a fog, but as Rey makes her way a few blocks down, she is struck by a smell.

A scent.

Not even nature could persuade her to keep going. Rey tips her back back and sniffs—

—it's Rose's perfume.

The war inside of her quieted down as one side rose victorious.

_PACK!_

Rose and Paige and Finn and god, how long was she gone? Rey. . . Rey can barely remember. She could see Rose's flushed face (were they running?) in her head, smiling with a tinge of exhaustion (why was she so tired?) and then panic breaks out on her face and her voice was muddled—

—and that's when the entire 72 hours slams into Rey with a force that has her doubling over, her shoulder pressing into the brick siding of a building. The texture bites her skin, but it's nothing compared to the assault that her memories come rushing back to her.

She transformed.

She ran away.

She followed a scent.

She followed a man.

She went home with him.

She stayed with him.

He was her mate. Her _soulmate._

_Ben._

Rey vomits onto the sidewalk.

For a long time, Rey stays there, pressed into the side of a building, spitting out the awful taste in her mouth. It's like she had forgotten about them— _him!_ —with all of this mess. How. . . how could anyone want her like this? It feels different with Finn, Rose and Paige. They're her family. But her soulmate. . . that was before everything.

But now?

She has been the most burden to her pack—her friends. How could she go and burden someone else? How could she trust her now complicated life onto someone? It kills her to watch her friends do absolutely everything in their power to be there for it.

Regret boils inside of her. She just wanted to be free. She wanted everyone to be free from Jakku.

But it seems like that place still haunts them.

Stubbornly, Rey wipes at her mouth and hauls herself to her feet. No one pays her any mind as she begins her trek once more, and it's easier this time to navigate the streets. It's not long when she spots the familiar building. It's not long when she stumbles inside. It's not long when she manages to climb the flights of steps to her floor.

It's a long time Rey just stands there, outside of her door. The familiar warming smell of her three friends is potent and it makes Rey want to cry with relief.

Then Rey lifts her hand, rasping her slightly scraped knuckles against the metal door. It feels only a little awkward, standing there and knocking onto her own apartment door and her heart and soul is torn.

What if her friends didn't want her to come back? What if they were glad to be rid of her? To be someone else's problem?

Rey stops that self pity train really quick with a low growl.

There's a little movement on the other side and her nose tickles. It's Rose and Rey wants to speak, but her words are lodged into her throat and her mouth is drier than Jakku.

The door swings open and the petite Asian is gasping and then crying.

"Oh my god, _Rey!"_

She flinches a little when Rose throws herself at her, ready to wrap her arms around her but she must have noticed Rey's violent reaction because she is stepping back and looking at her with worried tearfilled eyes.

And then Rey too bursts into tears and launches herself into Rose, who responds immediately.

"Jesus fucking Christ Rey!" she sobs into her neck and Rey lets the self pity part of her be soothed by Rose's obvious worry. She pulls back, her small hands going to Rey's cheeks. "Are you okay? Where have you been? Are you hungry?"

Rey chokes out a laughing sob, nodding. "Starving."

They come inside, though not ready to break contact, still holding hands as Rose pulls her to the couch and reluctantly lets go to push her friend down. "I have to call Finn."

Rey wipes at her eyes, feeling puffy and swollen but so whole and happy to be back. "Where is he?"

"At the park. We've been looking for you everywhere. But then it was pointless because this city is just so big so one of us would stay here and the other would go to the park and. . . and. . ." Rose starts to cry again and Rey pulls her down on the couch for a reassuring cuddle.

The sound of a lock turning and the door open and Rey's head lifts from Rose's shoulder. She scrambles from the couch and launches herself at a flabbergasted Finn, who wastes no time whatsoever to wrap his strong arms around her.

"Peanut!" Finn easily bursts into tears and then Rose joins them, all three sliding to the ground. "You came home.

Home.

_Home._

Paige comes home an hour later from work, promptly flinging herself into the heap of teenagers on the floor and Rey feels nearly whole.

_Nearly._


End file.
